


As He Grew

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Brothers, Family, Fear, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Life Lessons, POV Dean Winchester, Poetry, Prose Poem, Sacrifice, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:37:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We don’t have a lot of good memories, little brother—but you’ll always be one to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As He Grew

He may _never_ hold peace, but he’ll have felt it. _I made sure of that_. Short and sweet as it was, there was concord in those eyes the nights I stayed up, rocking them closed. His tiny hand, gripping the collar of my shirt, finally letting go as I whispered. “It’s okay, Sammy. I’m here. _I’m here._ ”

He may _never_ understand family, but he has one. _I made sure of that._ As little as we are, he came to know the tint of blood we share— _too often,_ his eyes grew colder in its warmth. Holding out my arm, fresh- cut, running red, “Look at it, Sam— _get used to it_.”

He may _never_ believe in obligation, but he’ll follow it. _I made sure of that._ We had work to do and it needed to be done. People could die. That’d be on our heads, or they’ll have had our heads. “Use your god damn head, Sammy. Don’t blink— _don’t hesitate._ ”

He may _never_ see me on his side, but he’ll know I’m there. _I made sure of that_. My face is stone, my skin is stone, cratered and rough against his grasp—his hands, bigger than mine, stronger, _yet_ unable to move the mountain of _me_. “You don’t have to like it, Sam— _you just have to do as I say_.”

He may _never_ know why it is, but he doesn’t have to. _I made sure of that_. Infant eyes didn’t ask, his cries never wondered, his crawl didn’t query, his babble didn’t beg, his smudged cheeks didn’t chisel out the bigger picture. “Just trust me, Sammy. _Trust me._ ”

He may _never_ look on our years in reverence, but I wouldn’t expect him to. _I am sure of that_. Where he recalls empty stomachs, dark nights huddled in corners, _blood_ and _orders_ , _stone_ and _questions_ ; I remember his hand reaching out for mine, young eyes learning, a thin body growing, cries fading into solid words, steady feet—certain upon their ground, silence- _understood_ , and cheeks … cracking with a boyish grin that’s lasted in spite of it all. _  
_

_We don’t have a lot of good memories, little brother—but you’ll always be one to me._

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a piece that solely focused on Dean's love and devotion to Sam. This is not "Wincest" or anything beyond the type of adoration an older sibling feels for their younger sibling - especially when the older sibling feels responsible for their care. I relate very closely with Dean in this way, and I can understand the complete, crippling weight that comes with wanting to protect your family.


End file.
